The Journey
by SnowRedWings
Summary: CLEVE. Contain a lemon. Steve is back, and needs Claire's help to figure out what's been done to him. -HIATUS-


Claire lay in the dark room, a pillow held tightly against her chest, locked in place by her unmoving arms and clenched fists. After being swept away from Rockfort Island, she had all the time in the world to dwell on what happened there - as much as she didn't want to. The memories came screaming back leaving her dazed and weak, but what hurt the most was his voice. And now, as she lay alone in a hotel room, she couldn't fight off the pain any longer.

Squeezing the pillow tighter, the young woman fought against the fresh bout of tears vainly, burying her face against the rough white cotton she held prisoner. A poorly muffed sob broke the midnight silence, her body curling in on itself as if to hold her together. The tears were useless. Nothing would bring Steve back to her. Nothing. She had never felt so alone.

After she had cried until her eyes felt like they were about to swell shut, Claire rolled to her back and stared up at the dark ceiling. It was sickly green with the glow of the cheap alarm clock on the bedside table, the time it displayed incorrect.

"Claire," A familar voice pervaded the silence, making the young woman stiffen. That couldn't be right, it had to be her mind playing tricks. "Claire, it's me." The voice repeated, almost desperate now.

"Whoever you are, that's not funny." She spoke, her words almost jarbled in her fury to get them out, "Stop it."

"It's not a joke," He whispered from the darkness, so quiet Claire had to strain to hear. But what he said made her all the more angry. Slowly shaking her head, she pulled herself upright. The room was too gloomy to make anyone out, the voice coming from the darkest corner of the suite.

"Then show yourself. Prove it." Her wide eyes scanned the darkness expectantly, her ears straining to hear the slightest of noises. The arm chair groaned, fabric brushed together and then there was a weight on the end of the king size bed. Claire had closed her eyes tight, afraid of what she might have seen.

"Open your eyes, Claire," He murmured, fingertips brushing against her cheek bone. She gasped quietly, her lower lip trembling as his touch ghosted across it. She was paralyzed, not because of fear, but of the realization that it could have all been a dream. "Please..."

Slowly, she opened her right eye. She could see the vague shape of his face in the dim green of the digital clock, her jaw falling slack in surprise and amazement.

"Steve?" She screeched, her hands flying to his face, desperate for any sort of proof that it was really happening. His skin was cold, like he had been outside for too long, his breath like an artic breeze against the palm of her hand. "How... is this happening?" His expression was suddenly sad, his lips pressing against her fingers. Claire trembled as his mouth slid to the inside of her wrist, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I can't tell you," He sighed softly, smiling against her wrist when she trembled lightly. "I came back for you, to be with you." Her face was a mask of shadows, her brows furrowed over her confused eyes. She was a smart girl, but maybe this time she didn't want to figure it out. Just once, she wished she could turn her brain off and not think about it. Her mind was flying a million miles a minute: Why was Steve here? Didn't he.. die? Steve sitting on the edge of her bed, shirtless. The last thought made her feel like jello, her face reddening.

"Claire?" Steve tilted his head slightly, brown hair falling over his eyes. She didn't speak, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his cold shoulder. He hesitantly placed his hands against her shoulders, moving downward to rest against the sway of her back. She shivered against him, her back arching slightly. It was Steve's turn to blush when he felt her chest touch his, his face growing warm.

She tilted her head back, her eyes meeting his - both of them glad the room was too dark to make out the blood pooling in their cheeks. They didn't need words, they understood each other well enough to communicate on a deeper level. Inhaling sharply when his icy fingers danced over the edge of her shirt, his mouth ghosted over the corner of her lips. They advanced until they covered hers completely, the tip of his tongue flicking her upper lip teasingly.

The room was suddenly hot, her face feeling like a space heater. His hands advanced up her shirt, until they were at the center of her back, their mouths connected. Their jaws worked at each other, their heads tilted opposite ways as their tongues battled for dominance. She shivered again, whimpering against his mouth as he unhinged her bra and slid his fingers under the fabric of it. His hand shook slightly as it moved forward, stopping against the delicate curve of her breast. She pulled away, nodding slightly to tell him it was okay. Only then did his hand continue its journey around the curve, upwards to the top of hard peak.

The cry she gave when he rolled it between his fingers made his stomach tighten, her breathing heavy against the silence of the room. He could feel her heart hammering against her ribs, and it did strange things to him. He pulled his hand away, receiving a pouting face from Claire - until he moved to grip the edge of her shirt. Then it was on the floor, her dark bra slack against her bosom. She peeled that away herself, dropping it to join the shirt. Steve was in awe, even in almost total darkness.

"You're beautiful," He breathed, his stomach flip flopping again. She leaned back against the bed, pulling him along with her so he was hovering above her. One of his knees was between her legs, his hands moving to cover her bare chest. She arched into him, gasping quietly again. His mouth sought out hers, his knees pushing her legs apart so he could rest his hips against hers. When her legs wrapped around his legs and her hips bucked against his, it was his turn to gasp until he bent and took one of her nipples into his mouth, circling it with the tip of his tongue - enjoying the small groans of pleasure it pulled from her. Her hips pressed against his even harder, adding to the steady tension there.

"C-Claire," And then he was kissing her again, his tongue tasting hers. He rocked his hips slightly, a shiver of pleasure traveling up his spine. The friction was delicious, moving him to do it over and over. Claire whimpered loudly, her back arching further as she rocked her pelvis along with him. He didn't feel cold to her anymore as his thumb slid across her erect nipple, his fingers delicate in their duty to please her. She was shivering under him, her hips pressing against his. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, her eyes closed and her mouth forming a silent o.

"Please, Steve," She gasped as his mouth slid over her neck, his teeth sinking into a spot when she pressed her sex against him against his growing hardness. He couldn't take much more, he needed her. He pulled back, his fingers fumbling with his pants and she freed herself from her pajama bottoms, underwear in all. They didn't take their time, they were desperate. When he slid himself into her tight center, her arms went slack around his shoulders. Until he moved.

When he slid himself out and pushed back in, she moaned loudly against his ear, her nails sinking into the flesh of his back, her legs quivering at his hips. It was like that each time, until he was sure his back was in bloody ribbons and he was about to be undone by the sheer pleasure of being with her. The lovers had climaxed together, back arching and voices full of strangled cries. Then he collapsed against her, his face resting against her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

"I love you," He whispered, kissing the angry mark he left on the flesh of her neck. Claire smiled and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against the top of his head. It was getting to be light outside now, faint light bleeding in through the heavy curtains hanging over the window.

"I love you too, Steve," She breathed, squeezing her arms for emphasis. She was still in shock that he was back, the smile on her face fading slightly. Perhaps this was only a dream, and when she opened her eyes, she would be alone again. Fear made her grip him tighter.

"Claire, listen," His voice was serious now, though he didn't sit up from where he lay, " I need to tell you something." She became motionless, her breathing still and her heart hammering wildly in her chest again. Steve rolled onto his side on the bed, pulling her with him and cradling her in his arms. The blanket had been pushed towards the end of the bed, and he had fetched it to stave off the cold that would surely prickle their damp skin.

"I'm not.. entirely human anymore.. I don't know what happened to me, and that's why I need you to help me.. Help me find out what's happening to me." She fit perfectly against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Her hands formed small fists against his torso, one resting over his fast beating heart. It beat so much faster than hers, even when she was panicking like before.

"That's why you're alive." Her voice was grim, wavering slightly at the admission. He nodded once, his jaw touching the top of her head. She was glad he was back, even if she was altered by a virus. Her fists tightened a bit more until her knuckles showed white, " I'll help you."

Chris, who was sleeping in a room across the hall, would need an explanation. One they couldn't offer just yet, she thought, smiling against his chest. She wasn't scared of what the future was going to bring now that he was here; she welcomed it.


End file.
